


The Children of Canaan

by viciouswishes



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-01
Updated: 2005-05-01
Packaged: 2017-10-11 19:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/115971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viciouswishes/pseuds/viciouswishes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wesley exists in Heaven and Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Children of Canaan

Life was a party. Faith had once told Wesley that as she took her knife and cut into his arm. But Faith had been a child who'd discovered she'd received another doll instead of a pony for her birthday and had thrown a temper tantrum. He, on the other hand, would've given anything for a single slice of cake.

*****

Andrew held a clipboard in his hand, checking off the various supplies he was responsible for. "Four dozen balloons, check. Two coolers full of water, check." His eyes followed the shirtless man carrying the water containers.

Lorne cleared his throat. "How's it going there, butternut?"

Andrew wished that Lorne wouldn't call him 'butternut' or 'sugar yam,' but for the first time in his existence, both in life and not life, he felt accepted and cared about. He knew that Lorne valued his service; he was Robin to Lorne's Batman, if they threw parties instead of fought crime. "Just fine, Lorne."

"Yeah, I can see they're just fine." Lorne admired the same man that Andrew'd been checking out. "But the party, how's that one coming?"

"Everything should be ready on schedule." Andrew grinned proudly at the work he'd done. The stage was set for Lorne's musical numbers and for drunken karaoke later. He'd heard rumor that Mr. Giles had an amazing singing voice. "Did Spike RSVP?"

"I know you're waiting for your big hero, but I'm not sure if he knows where he's supposed to be yet. I suppose when you've been around a long time, you'll have a lot of chances to find your family." Lorne placed his hand on Andrew's shoulder. "But don't worry, he'll show up soon enough. Everyone does."

"I guess." Andrew sighed and checked off the platter of finger sandwiches. "Did I tell you that the scruffy cowboy was by looking for Angel again?"

"Lindsey," Lorne scoffed. "When will that boy ever give up his jonesing for tall, dark, and broody? But don't worry, I doubt Lindsey's coming. He probably only had a day pass from hell."

"Do you think there's an actual hell, Lorne? Or is it more like Babylon 5 where we all end up beyond the rim? None of us have actually been there, and I, in my darker times, killed my best friend." Andrew frowned and bit his lip, whispering, "When Mr. Giles alerted us that the world was possibly ending, I wondered where I was going to end up."

"Me too, kiddo."

*****

The night Virginia left, Wesley wondered just how long she'd been lying to him. How many different ways she'd thought about leaving him. How many times she'd said, 'I love you,' and hadn't meant it.

Wesley laughed, cruel and sad, and took his pain pills. His numbed eyes drifted to the calendar. Tomorrow was his mother's birthday; he'd have to remember to send her flowers.

*****

Fred laughed and kissed Willow's cheek. The flush on her lover's face matched her hair. "I'm sure that Andrew didn't mean it that way."

"Oh, I'm sure he did. He's been hanging out with Xander again." Willow nodded in her resolve.

"Besides it's not like anyone's going to use a still prickly cactus for-"

Willow's face looked panicked again. "Just don't remind me."

Fred smoothed down the edges of her sundress. "I'm not the one who put yak cheese in her bra when we were alive." She rolled her eyes, glad that Willow wasn't surrounded by the smell anymore. "Now, do I get to do my favorite part of getting ready for the beach?"

Willow settled down on the couch. Her pale skin stood out against the dark purple fabric as Fred poured a bit of sunscreen on her hand. "We probably don't need that here."

"I know," Fred replied. She enjoyed making Willow happy. Her hands ran down Willow's back, feeling her smooth skin. "But I like doing this." She rubbed out a little knot in Willow's shoulders.

Willow moaned into her lover's touch. "Keep that up and we might not make it Lorne's party on time."

Fred smiled and kissed Willow's spine. The coconut lotion taste of the sunscreen covered her lips, and she attempted not to make a face. "I think Lorne will understand. He does read auras after all."

With a grunt, Willow rolled over and sat up. "Oh, no, we're definitely going now...without the sex. It's bad enough that Andrew was suggesting obscene things to do with cactuses just because you're from Texas, but I'm not having Lorne reading my sex life."

Fred giggled again. "Oh, sweetie," her lips brushed against Willow's, "it's not like Lorne doesn't already know."

*****

As a T.A., he shared a tiny office with another Watcher in training. They both wanted to earn the perfect pedigree. For some reason, Wesley thought they would bond, but things weren't any different than at the Academy. He was still too dull, too smart, too _something_ for the other man to do more than mumble greetings.

Wesley started correcting student papers at odd hours of the night. He blamed insomnia and found himself wandering into the closet-size space at 3 a.m. to slash papers with traditional red ink.

Until he found his officemate shagging the girl Wesley recognized as the Slayer over his desk. Wesley didn't interrupt, but in the morning, neither was seen from again and a new Slayer was put under his father's charge.

Wesley's insomnia stopped that night.

*****

"Please," Cordelia placed her hands on her waist, "like I'd ever buy something that horrid." She gestured at the Hawaiian shirt Angel wore.

Wesley smiled. "We did find it in your closet, and we are taking a trip the beach."

"I don't know." Angel shrugged his shoulders. "I kind of like it. Fits the whole sand-in-your-toes look." He matched Wesley's smile with one of his own; he was looking forward to the ocean waves.

Cordelia checked the security of the sarong wrapped around her waist. "Whatever. When he was undead, he was a label snob, and now that he's dead dead, he's wearing Hawaiian shirts." She rolled her eyes. At least she'd get to show off her perfectly-fitting yellow bikini. "Guess that's what happens when you get your head chopped off in battle. If you don't use it, you lose it. And don't get mad if even Lorne makes fun of you."

Wesley tried to bite back a chuckle and then stiffened as Angel's arm wrapped around his waist. He clenched a bag full of sun-and-fun supplies under his arm.

"You two didn't try to taste those clouds on the way in, did you?" Cordelia asked. "Doyle did once, and he ended up humping my couch like some dog in heat."

Wesley shook his head. "Now where exactly did you put that bleach for my brain?"

"Ha ha." Cordelia pushed her glasses down on her nose and linked arms with Wesley. "Now come along. The beach is waiting, and both of you desperately need a tan.

*****

Wesley craved the feeling of nothing; drinking helped him achieve that. It was a less than elegant means to an end. Carefully rationed, he'd never feel again, never have a hangover, and never vomit in the toilet.

Illyria spoke to him and gathered houseplants that he'd sworn were dying before her presence. They now grew green and lush, reminding Wesley of the garden his mother had when he was a child. The garden the children were not allowed in as they might trample the roses.

He passed in and out of consciousness. He thought Illyria turned into Fred and cursed at the desecration. A bang went off, almost detached from his hand, right through Fred's delicate shoulder.

Illyria looked down, fascinated at the pooling blood and commenting on the fragility of mortality.

*****

Gunn threw a ball to a golden retriever that Dawn had christened Lucy. Lucy leapt up in the air, catching it perfectly in her mouth over the green grass. Gunn looked over to Buffy who was walking out wearing a black bikini. He gave her an appreciative whistle and a "Dang, girl."

Lucy ran toward him, the ball in her mouth, thinking that the whistle was Gunn calling her to him. She jumped up and placed her paws on Gunn's waist. Her tongue licked his hand as he took the ball from her mouth.

Buffy laughed. "Lucy says thanks for me."

As Gunn brushed the dog off, he smiled at her and held out his free hand. "Is my lady ready for the beach party? I put the drinks in back of the Jeep. That's what we're supposed to bring, right?"

"Correct." She returned his grin and kissed him gently. Turning toward the house, Buffy shouted for her sister and Alonna.

The two young women stepped out the front door, giggling at some shared secret. Last week, Alonna had decided to share embarrassing childhood stories about Gunn's attempts to make his Transformers fly by tossing them from a tree and Gunn still hadn't quite forgiven her. Dawn and Alonna ran to the car; they were all limbs and hair, and Dawn had even straightened Alonna's natural curls for the party.

Alonna tried to swipe the keys from Gunn, but he pulled back from her. "Come on, big brother, just this once," she begged.

"Tomorrow," he responded. "Unless you want to be the designated driver for the night?"

Alonna wrinkled her nose, a habit that Gunn swore she picked up from the Summers' sisters, and shook her head. "I think Dawn and I'll enjoy our time being chauffeured."

"As long as it's not by Buffy," Dawn added.

Opening the passenger side door, Buffy climbed in the seat. "One accident that was mostly not my fault and I'm branded for eternity."

*****

"Going to keep torturing yourself?" Lilah walked into the room. "I guess you always were a martyr." Her pointed black shoes clicked against the hardwood flooring, but she always did look impeccable for any occasion.

Wesley sat up on his couch, remote in his hand. "Isn't that the definition of hell, Lilah?" His tongue ran over his dry lips. Hell also lacked other amenities such as chapstick, despite the permanent shine on Lilah's lips. He eyed the edges of her blue scarf as she moved toward him.

"While I remember poor Wesley torturing himself over stealing Angel's son, I also remember that he knew how to show a woman a good time." Lilah picked up his glass of Scotch, taking a sip herself as if she owned the glass. Wesley snorted because she probably did. "Or at least he knew how to be a good fuck," Lilah continued.

"We're in hell, Lilah." And, of course, Lilah was his punishment; Lilah who could play cat and mouse amongst fire, brimstone, and regret. She never failed to show up when he'd almost forgotten about her.

Lilah reached over, her crimson manicured nail touching his face. "Correction, part of you is in hell. Really, Wesley, you can stop the self-flagellation. It went out with Angel and monks from the days before electricity." She smells of lilacs and smoldering hellfire.

"Then why are you here if leaving's so simple." Wesley longed for the liquid in the glass, but it was no longer his.

"I'm here because you want me to be, lover, just like part of you is with Angel and Cordelia, because they want you." Her lips ghosted dangerously close to his.

Wesley grabbed her scarf, knowing that she would bend so her head would stay on. "I don't want you. Get out." His haze-filled eyes peered into hers. "I don't want you."

"I'm still here, Wes," she mocked him with her every moment, her every unneeded breath.

Wesley took her arm in his hand, shoving her away from him. She moved off his lap and he wished she'd fallen on the floor. If he were stronger, he'd throw her against the television, finally breaking the vision of heaven. But he was only a man, a dead man. "Get out," he shouted one last time before picking up the bottle of Scotch and the remote, watching Cordelia remove the other Wesley's t-shirt.


End file.
